elkanthe on BudgetPixel

"Upon Blighted Wings I Soar: Upon blighted wings I soar— not high, not clean, but stubbornly, through thinning light and borrowed sky. Each feather bears a history of fire, of hands that praised, then pushed, of faith that cracked like winter glass yet cut its way to air. I do not rise because I am unbroken. I rise because the fall taught me the exact shape of the ground, and how little it deserves me. The wind knows my damage by name. It does not mock. It lifts what it can and leaves the rest to ache. If this is flight, let it be flawed. If this is grace, let it limp. I am done waiting for whole wings— upon blighted wings, still, I soar."

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